Page 159 of Handsome Devil
Because I lost my biological parents.
But I gained a father.
“Ibooked your annual vacation with Alix and Sadie,” Tate announced from his spot next to me in the back seat of the Escalade, his arm slung over my shoulder, his other hand scrolling through stocks on his phone. “Figured you could use some girl time.”
“Where am I going?” I nuzzled into his neck. He’d been my rock since Mum passed away. It was thanks to his unrelenting devotion that I was able to slide back into reality rather than crumble into it. We drove to work together every day, took lunch together, and went back home together. He’d been good at distracting me, getting us Broadway tickets, taking me to restaurants I’d always wanted to try, and binge-watching highly acclaimed foreign movies with me, even though I knew their slow pace and nuanced topics drove him mad.
“Havana.” His eyes warmed, but his face remained cavalier. “In honor of your mother. I figured you could take off from our house in Crimson Key. It’s close to Miami.”
Ourhouse. I’d never even visited it, but Tate considered what was his also to be mine.
“Thank you.” I pressed my lips to the curve of his jaw. “It’s the best gift.You’rethe best gift,” I corrected.
An overwhelming urge to treathimslammed into me.
“Darling,” I said, “I want to make dinner for you tonight.”
He whipped his head my way, surprised. “You know how to cook?”
“Yes.” I smiled brightly. He was in for a pleasant surprise. I was somewhat of an amateur chef. “I do. And you know how to eat.” As he’d demonstrated throughout our short marriage.
A wolfish grin tugged the corners of his lips. “That I do.”
“Anything specific you have in mind?”
“Never met a good steak I didn’t like.”
“Potatoes?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Broccoli. I haven’t had a starch in five years.”
My expression probably gave away my shock and alarm at that information.
He chuckled, stealing a quick kiss as the vehicle reached the entrance of GS Properties. “I know, Apricity. It’s hard to understand when you are a twenty-six-year-old former athlete and have the metabolism of a hummingbird. But your thirties bring with them a whole new level of maintenance. There’s an entire decade between us.”
I scrunched my nose. “Sometimes I forget I’m shagging an old man.”
He tipped back his head, barking out a delighted laugh and scooping me into his arms in a tsunami of kisses. “Then how about I remind you why it’s worth it.”
After holding meetings with union members all day and tending to my administrative duties, I got off work at four to have adequate time to prepare a romantic dinner. I only had one bodyguard now—Filippo. We got along well, although I kind of missed Enzo’s sunshine energy and funny jokes.
We started out at the farmers’ market, where I purchased flowers and three boneless rib eyes—yes, Filippo needed to eat too—along with some broccoli florets and other greens for a fresh salad.
“So when did you join the Camorra?” I tried to use the time shopping to get to know him better as we strolled side by side. I doubted we’d be spending a lot of time together now that Tate was working diligently to make peace with the Callaghans. “Enzo mentioned you are not a Ferrante by blood.”
The young, brawny man considered his words, weeding through what he wanted to tell me and what he wished to keep to himself. “Yes, we’re not technically blood, but we’re much more than that. Back in Napoli.” He scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing. “My mother was a prostitute, and my father was a drunk. My father used to do some work for Vello in his Ischia summer house, so he knew the don. He sent me off to work for the Ferrantes to pay a debt. I could’ve ended up in a very bad spot, but the family took a liking to me because I was a hard worker, a fast learner. Achilles especially.” He ran his teeth over his lower lip. “They let me live in their shed, not with all theirother laborers in the motel they own in Jersey City. In time, they even let me have a place at their dinner table.”
“Achilles doesn’t seem like the type to just dole out friendship,” I noted, striding along the stalls sprouting colorful bouquets of flowers, freshly baked goods, and handmade mittens. We were edging out of the farmers’ market and toward the car park. It was surrounded by low, industrial, red-bricked buildings, with a narrow one-way road leading out to the main street.
“He can be terrible,” Filippo agreed. “But he is always fair.”
“Is he?” I asked doubtfully.
Filippo nodded. “In our world, it is better to be cruel than to be weak. Whatever punishments he gives people, they always deserve it.”
“Did his baby brother deserve having his girlfriend shagged to make a point?” I couldn’t help but snap out. What a load of rubbish.
“This wasn’t a punishment,vita mia. It was a favor.” Filippo frowned, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings, hyperaware we were in a public though secluded place. “And a lesson too. Enzo has a lot to learn about himself.”
